


Seeing Me

by raeryn



Series: Looks [2]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien figuring out how to tell Marinette he knows, Companion Piece, F/M, Fluff, Identity Reveal, POV Adrien Agreste, Secret Identity, adrien knows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 18:23:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6020320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raeryn/pseuds/raeryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not easy, not when you're in love with your best friend, not when your best friend is a superhero. But what's even harder than is trying to <i>tell</i> your best friend you knew she was a superhero, especially when she didn't want you to know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seeing Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is Adrien’s part to the oneshot _Look At Me_ , though it’s not necessary to read that first. (Though I do recommend doing so.) Both Adrien and Marinette’s part reference to scenes in its complement fic. And man, is this long. Way longer than Marinette’s part, but I think that’s because writing out scenes that Marinette briefly mentioned in _Look At Me_ takes up a lot more words.
> 
> I posted _Look At Me_ on Christmas Eve, and I was thinking, “ha, maybe I should post this a day before Valentine’s so it’s parallel” but February 13th isn’t a very significant date. Well, whatever—without further ado, here’s Adrien’s part!

He’s pictured finding Ladybug’s secret alter ego a million times.

Probably even more, if he was willing to admit that.

Adrien never expected Ladybug to be sitting behind him class—for _years._ They’ve been classmates for _years_ and he’s never noticed.

He might have to give that to Marinette; he _hadn’t_ noticed her without the mask. At least, initially.

But now— _now,_ he knew.

 

 

 

 

He didn't know what to think about this friendship with Marinette.

That's a lie. He knew exactly what to think.

What he didn’t really know what to think about was this whole Marinette-is-Ladybug-but-she-doesn’t-know-that-quite-yet situation he had with her. On one hand...it wasn’t entirely his fault that he knew, when he knew that Marinette didn’t want him to know.

Oh, who was he kidding? Adrien was guilty—he felt _so_ incredibly guilty.

The thing was, how could he not figure it out? Since Adrien became closer friends with Marinette (a feat that he is very proud of; getting closer to her is harder than one would think), he knew her better than he knew himself. The only person that could even compare with Marinette and the connection he had with her was Ladybug and—well, there’s why.

He knew exactly when his friendship with Marinette really started. A group lunch date almost one and a half years ago when Alya (later he found out, ditched) and Nino, who caught a cold, couldn’t make it. It left Marinette so incredibly awkward that Adrien took pity on her and offered to the cancel the meeting. He was a little bummed out about that; Adrien figured it was because he had really wanted to try the Chinese restaurant Marinette suggested they go to.

Marinette said no, and that encouraged him in so many more ways than one.

He had wanted to be her friend. Really, he did. It was hard for him, however, considering Marinette never seemed to be comfortable around him. He didn’t want to force himself on to her, no matter how interesting Marinette was. So when Marinette decided to stay with him, Adrien took the chance by its reins. It wasn’t easy maintaining and building the flickering friendship he had with Marinette, but Adrien worked hard, and before he knew it, she became his best friend.

(Though, that wasn’t exactly true. She was his best friend before he even knew who she was.)

He was glad Marinette was his best friend.

Adrien wasn’t even afraid to tell Nino that. Nino, forever his best—guy—friend, smiled happily whenever he reffered to Marinette as such, though Adrien thought he saw _some_ kind of annoyance flickering in his eyes. Arien guessed it was exasperation now that Adrien had more friends than just Nino. (Though with the way Nino’s going with Alya, Adrien thought the boy had no right to complain. Really, the four of them were like a huge family. He liked to think so anyways.)

She was his best friend—he loved that. How could Adrien not? Marinette Dupain-Cheng was absolutely amazing.

He loved visiting her. In all sorts of ways, unbeknownst to Marinette. She always surprised him, and more times than not, those surprises always made him like him more.

One of his favorites is _always_ when Marinette showed him her designs. But a particular memory that Adrien was extremely fond of involved a scarf.

His fingers drifted over the fabrics Marinette laid out for him. She was talking animatedly, a sight that always made smile. She picked up each piece, describing where she got it, why she bought it, and what she planned on doing with it.

“This one’s for Alya’s birthday. It was hard getting this color, not to mention expensive, but anything for my best friend. It’s even reversible. See?” Marinette flipped it over. “I can’t decide what to get her though.”

“I'm sure she'll like anything you make.” He knew he did.

Marinette smiled kindly at him. “Oh, I know _that._ But I still want to make her something that she'll like, something practical.”

He nodded with understanding. “Still,” Adrien said, fingers brushing over the fabrics she handed to him, “I wouldn't worry about it too much. Anything you make is perfect.”

He turned to see her. There—there it was. A beautiful blush adorned her cheeks. _Cute,_ Adrien thought with rapid heartbeats in his chest. He liked seeing her like this, spending time with her like this.

(Though he didn't realize _why_ until later.)

“Do you always stitch your signature?” he asked, fingers feeling the bumpy etch. It looked complicated, weaving the needle up and down to get every curve of Marinette’s lengthy name.

“Mm...no. Not always. It takes up a lot of effort. Also, sometimes I’m not brave enough to stitch my signature. I’m not even gradated, you know? It’s not like I’m a world famous designer anything.” She rolled her eyes, laughing. “It’s kind of embarrassing.”

“No,” Adrien disagreed, surprised. “No way. There’s nothing wrong with being confident. Everyone should know that you made this amazing product.”

Marinette flushed, sending him a small glance. There—one of those looks. Not quite, but a little. “Thanks, Adrien,” she said, almost whispering. “That means a lot to me.”

“Are these all your practiced signatures?” He pawed the different fabrics, all different sizes. His eyes widened with awe at a particularly intricate one, woven with multicolored thread, almost as if it were shining. Others were smaller. Some had her entire name, only a couple with the full “Marinette Dupain-Cheng”; most were simple “M” and less, though still plenty, “MDC”.

“Yeah. I keep most of them, because I like saving everything I do. Kind of like seeing how much progress I’m making, you know?”

Adrien’s glance fell on the bright blue one. He would catch that color anywhere. How many times has he hugged the fabric of the same color to his chest, cradling it as if it would provide him comfort in ways his father hadn’t been able to?

His fingers brushed over the etched signature. This fabric was longer, and Marinette practiced her signature several times. There was an unfinished “Marinet” at the top and several “M”’s of different shapes and sizes, curled and straight, near the bottom.

A cord struck. He glanced at Marinette, who was talking about some other fabric for her gift to Alya. For the first time in a while, his focus drifted away from her, and instead, towards the fabric under his hand.

Marinette wasn’t looking at him; he couldn’t read her. But Adrien was certain. He had long ago noticed the stitched “M” near the bottom of his scarf, always curious of where his father bought it if it wasn’t one of Agreste Fashion’s products.

It had to be her. Marinette _had_ to have made the scarf for him.

The question was, why did Nathalie play it off like a gift from his father? Was it really? Was Marinette the mere designer in this circumstance, or did she actually intend it to be a personal gift for him?

He tried replaying his birthday. It was two years ago, so he didn’t remember everything clearly. The only memories that resurfaced with lucid clarity was his feeling of immense happiness when he opened the gift, and the horrible feeling when Adrien found out he was at fault for causing Nino to become akumatized.

He tried to remember. Did Marinette talk to him that day? If the gift was from her, she had to have talked to him. But he really couldn’t recall it. It was two years ago, after all. Moreover, Adrien hadn’t been close to her back then, hadn’t noticed her.

Once again, he cursed to himself. Not noticing Marinette...It was like a crime to him. Adrien’s eyes went back to the blue fabric, to all the others Marinette had laid out. They went to her room, to _her._ How could he not have noticed how amazing she was earlier?

Another thought struck him.

He was falling in love with her.

 

 

 

 

Adrien _does_ like it but that could simply be bias.

Marinette’s claim that he hated fashion wasn’t wrong—he wasn’t fond of it. Modeling for _hours_ on end, needing to skip classes in order to fit in photoshoot sessions, turning down friend’s requests to hangout—Adrien thought it was awfully fair that he didn’t love fashion. It’s been skewed since the start, and his job as a model is probably what ruined it for him.

He briefly wondered if he would like it if he wasn’t a model, if his father wasn’t Gabriel Agreste. But that’s only wishful thinking.

Either way, Adrien felt he needed to convince Marinette—who haughtily thought she won this round, that Adrien does, in fact, detest fashion—that he likes it. Adrien threw his words around, hoping it would persuade her. The only indication that he’s being compelling is the slight fall in her triumphant expression and faint flush dusting her face. He grinned mentally at that; flirting wasn’t easy as Adrien Agreste, but somehow, with Marinette, she made everything easy. Words flowed out of his mouth simply, something that he couldn’t really do with other people. Frankly, if his father didn’t restrict him so much with his words and actions when Adrien was growing up, he could be more of an extrovert than he was now, but Gabriel Agreste did, and so here Adrien was—hiding small parts of himself from large parts of the world.

Even so, with Marinette, he was able to let himself free. Sure, he was able to do so with Nino as well, but the way he acted with the designer was just completely different from the way with his best friend. Sometimes, when he was with Marinette, he was so at ease with her it’s like he’s known her his entire life. Like he knew her better than he thought he did. Like there was a part of them they both didn’t know of, secrets he thought he didn’t know—but did.

He would see this sometimes. It wasn’t often that Adrien caught it, but at moments, he would feel a catch. _Deja vu,_ people called it, though that word didn’t entirely fit. Adrien tried to place it, but it was practically futile.

But not quite.

He was able to catch wind of when it came. Not all the time, but small occasion. Adrien would catch it when he and Marinette fist bumped after a particular victory (when he finally beat her at Ultimate Mecha Strike III or finished the _killer_ semester project they had been put together a year ago the forced them to pull an allnighter). Adrien would catch it when they went a little crazy (when Marinette had almost lost her head laughing and jumping to her heart’s content in hat humongous jump-park in the carnival that Nino and Alya had dragged them to a couple months ago). And above all, he would catch it when she shot a flippant remark after he threw a pun (when she would smirk, her blue eyes glimmering like the heavens—and that was almost all the time).

The point was, Adrien was almost sure he knew Marinette better in aspects that he didn’t understand yet. He swore, it was just on the tip of his tongue, like the revelation was just one push from revealing itself.

Anyways, it’s not that Adrien hated fashion. He likes it, _really._

Like he said, Marinette wasn’t wrong. Adrien had little heart for the fashion industry, but the girl who showered him with the ideas of her designs and piled tons of fabrics in his arms made it better. Made him want to try harder so that maybe one day, when they grew up, they could work together. (A foolish dream, but he was a child—he could dream.)

Marinette’s accusation towards his hatred of fashion wasn’t directed incorrectly, but Adrien still felt a need to rectify her. He spouted random reasons why, most of which were true, but not quite exactly the reason why he enjoyed watching Marinette work her designs through.

He wished she would understand his hidden meaning.

A roll of the eyes, a scoff. All towards his “reasons” why.

“I like fashion,” he finished. _I like you,_ he meant.

 

 

 

 

“My best friend loves me.”

Chat Noir raised an eyebrow. Isn’t that what best friends were supposed to do? Love their best friends?

They were talking about home life—a conversation that put him on edge whenever Ladybug breathed the word “papa” with love and affection and a talk that unnerved Ladybug whenever Chat came to anything that was _remotely_ revealing.

But for the most part, it had ran smoothly. Nothing too bad, and Ladybug hadn’t yelled at him or pulled away yet.

“Yeah, mine too,” he replied slowly, giving Ladybug a look. She snorted.

“I mean, she loves _me._ She’s a huge fan of Ladybug.”

“Ah.” Chat nodded. “And does she know?”

Her partner shot him a look. “What do you think, kitty?”

Raising his hands in surrender, he bent his head down, indicating his understanding. “Got it.” He set his arms down, looking back at his partner. “Do you think you’ll ever tell her?”

Ladybug was silent. It’s always like this, whenever Chat ask a huge question like that. But he knows Ladybug trusted him, that he didn’t have any ulterior motives for asking that. Chat Noir was genuinely curious.

He lapped in that silence, already well accustomed. Ladybug took her time to answer his questions, making sure everything was filtered and anything that needed to be hidden was.

“Maybe,” she finally answered. She didn’t continue and he didn’t break the silence. “Maybe,” she repeated, “maybe after years. Maybe after when this is all over.”

“Over?”

Ladybug gave him a look. “It has to end, at _some_ point. Whether that’s in a couple years or months or decades is a different matter. But it won’t last.” She laughed. “Can you imagine a seventy year old Ladybug trying to topple over buildings?”

He chuckled with her. “I’m sure you’ll make a radiant Ladybug, even with an elder citizenship.”

She laughed harder, bordering on guffaws. “Thanks, Chat. I’m glad you think so.” They fall quiet again, the wind and faint noises below the Eiffel Tower being the only sound in their ears. “My best friend gets a lot of interviews from Ladybug.”

“Favoritism?”

“In a way. I don’t neglect her, because I know she would be devastated without getting a Lady interview for too long. But I try not to dote on her too much.” She gave him a smile, a small one, filled with secrets. “But that’s a little hard.”

“Why don’t you tell her? I’m sure your best friend would be ecstatic to know if her best friend was her idol, Ladybug.”

Her grin fell. Chat snapped his mouth shut. He crossed a boundary, he crossed a boundary, _he crossed a boundary—_

Ladybug didn’t explode. She didn’t leave. Nor did she stay silent. Instead, she fell down next to him, taking a spot next to his cozy, cold-metal seat. Her head leaned against his shoulder, a gesture he’s learned over the years she only did when she’s at almost complete vulnerability. His breathing slowed, his heart thumping.

“My best friend…” Ladybug started and Chat almost breathed an audible sigh of relief when he heard of the tenderness and safety in her voice. “My best talks about me—like _actually._ On the internet.”

Chat Noir raised an eyebrow. “You mean to say that your best friend runs a blog on her best friend?”

“I never said _blog,”_ Ladybug said, aghast. Chat Noir chuckled. She probably meant to elude subtly to that point, but Chat—because he was so perceptive—figured it out. Judging by the mock annoyance she wears on her face, Chat didn’t need to worry about if he intruded too much.

“And?”

“And...she runs a blog. About _Ladybug._ She gushes about it all the time, talking about how Ladybug is courageous, brave—”

“You’re not going to tell me that’s a lie, now is it?”

Ladybug shot him a look. “Well, fine, I’ll admit I _am_ brave. I have to be. But that’s only as Ladybug...I’m sure you’re different as yourself too, right, Chat?”

He didn’t say anything. Of course he was.

Ladybug mirrored his thoughts. “Of course you are. Having a mask...being able to start over with a new identity where no one knew you, where they hardly see your faults because you’re literally a _savior..._ I’m different. It’s a little stressful when my best friend talks about both of us almost at the same time. ‘You’re so clumsy!’” Ladybug mimicked. “‘Oh, by the way, did you see my new video of Ladybug? She’s so graceful!’” She scoffed.

“...Is...Is that why you don’t want to tell me who you are?” he asked after what seemed like forever. Immediately, Chat Noir wanted to take it back. He felt like he was taking Ladybug’s worries and fears and turning them against her, using it to further his own desires. Of course Chat Noir wanted to know who Ladybug was, but that wasn’t the point here. “I-I-I m-mean—”

“I know.” Ladybug turned her eyes away, but still kept herself near him. “It is,” she whispered, just barely. If it wasn’t for the fact that they were having such a deep heart-to-heart or that Chat always listened to what Ladybug had to say, he might’ve missed it.

“Ladybug, I don’t know your secret identity so I may be totally baseless in saying this...but just because you aren’t graceful or a super when you’re yourself doesn’t mean you aren’t super or a grace.”

Her head snapped up, eyes locking with his. A thin coat of tears gleaned in her eyes and Chat Noir resisted the urge to lurch forward and hug her.

“Thanks, Chat,” she murmured, resting her forehead on his shoulder, “ _Thank you.”_

 

 

 

 

It’s a little hard to sleep. Not impossible, but difficult. Though Adrien _did_ manage to fall asleep, and his dreams are surrounded by ladybugs and masks.

Drearily, Adrien walked into class the next morning, setting his bag down on his desk and wanting nothing more than just to slam his face on to the table to take a nap. But he had an image to uphold, and even if his father wasn’t here, Gabriel Agreste had eyes everywhere.

“Can you believe it?” Adrien heard Alya screech to her best friend behind him. He smiled faintly. The two girls always talked amiably, loudly, not caring if anyone else in the room heard, never letting anything disturb their friendship. He turned a little to glance at them. “The hit count increased like, tenfold overnight! That’s a new record. And all because Ladybug mentioned it!”

Marinette laughed. “Well she had to. Didn’t the reporter ask her…something about publicity?”

“Yeah, the quick interview after the latest attack.” Adrien noticed Alya’s eyebrows furrowing, eyes squinting. “Did you watch it? That’s surprising. I didn’t think you liked Ladybug.”

“How can I not?” Marinette said and Adrien agreed. How _can_ anybody not like her? Maybe even Hawkmoth had a hidden admiration for her, or at least her astounding abilities; why else would he send akumas that have bitter resentment towards the fact that Ladybug and he keeps winning, never loses?

His logic is flawed, seriously flawed. But then again, he never thought clearly when it came to Ladybug.

“Just because I’m not a huge _fan—_ ” There was a pause, and Adrien turned again to catch Marinette’s eyes roll. He’s hit with its familiarity. “—doesn’t mean I don’t watch the news. I don’t live under a rock.”

“Fair enough,” Alya grinned. “So? _So?”_

“So _what?”_ Marinette asked, laughing. Alya shoved her.

“So, what do you think? My blog’s been getting _so_ much more attention since then.”  Alya gasped. “More people are going to see it. What if they’re not impressed? Do you think I should change the appearance? You have aesthetic sense; what do you think?”

Marinette chuckled again. “Oh please, Alya. Your blog is _amazing!_ It’s perfect; everyone loves it. You write _fantastic_ articles. Especially since you’re not professional!” Marinette poked her best friend, then crossed her arms with confidence. “You’re not bounded by large corporations so you can say anything about Ladybug! And although you want to unmask her”—the small furrowing of her eyebrows did not go unnoticed by Adrien—“you’re unbiased! Seriously, don’t even worry about it!”

“Thanks, Marinette,” Alya said, obviously relieved. “I needed that.”

“I’m your best friend,” Marinette said, jolting Adrien. “What do you even expect from me?”

“Reading my blog more,” Alya jabbed, coercing a sheepish grin from Marinette. “You say it’s great but you barely even read it!”

“I read _some_ of it and what I read was great! I can’t help it, Alya; I don’t care much for unmasking her! I think you respect her privacy a little more. Shouldn’t that be her choice?”

The girls continue debating, with no real animosity between them, but Adrien was already lost. There was so many things that Marinette said that overlapped with his conversation with Ladybug last night. With his heart beating rapidly, Adrien twiddled his thumbs, trying to recall and match everything up with what he knew. Ladybug’s best friend, a blog, a fear of not living up to expectations—

His eyes flicked back. Marinette laughing hard with Alya now, her rich hair catching the sunlight streaming into the room from the windows perfectly.

 _Heavenly,_ Adrien remembered.

 

 

 

 

He wasn’t _stalking_ her.

Sometimes he had a legitimate reason to be where he was. Akuma attacks and all—they were draining. Power-wise (and physically). He couldn’t be Chat _forever._ Adrien had to come out at some point and he need to find places to hide.

 _Okay,_ maybe Adrien _was_ a little curious to see where Marinette was going. But he wasn’t _stalking_ her. Adrien often just happened to be around the area where Marinette was, generally after an akuma attack, and he took the liberty of following her a couple blocks to say hi.

That didn’t constitute as _stalking_ if they met up coincidentally right?

It’s not his fault that Marinette kept showing up at the same places he did.

 _Constantly._ Adrien began to think it was weird, because more times than not, he would catch a glimpse of dark hair and think it was Ladybug, running away after a victorious battle, when it was really Marinette. He would catch Marinette coming out from dark alleyways, in between building walls on market streets, even behind a _trash_ can. He would catch her eye sometimes before he even started to approach her— _not_ stalking!—and see her eyes widen, blush building.

And what he really began to think was strange was that Marinette would stutter out something that was obviously an excuse. The way she would flush at the sight of him then respond to his question by letting her eyes dart to the side of wherever they were and picking the first thing she saw as her reason was a blatant sign. She might as well just be shouting “HEY, I’m lying about my actual situation, but I don’t want to tell you about it!”

And he got that, really. After all, wasn’t he stuck in the same situation?

But Adrien can’t help but to be curious.

He knew he should be suppressing his Marinette-Ladybug hunch. He respected his lady’s identity and now even understood why she was so adamant in keeping it so. But it’s been months since that conversation, and even longer since Adrien’s beginning to notice that Marinette showed up in all the places he’s at after an akuma fight. No matter how much Adrien tried to push away the connection between Marinette and Ladybug, somehow, it just kept coming back.

As a season passed and almost a month into the next one, Adrien realized that his Marinette-Ladybug was no longer a mere hunch, but a practical, reasonable theory.

 

 

 

 

It’s six months after his initial speculation that Marinette was Ladybug when Adrien fully realizes he wouldn’t mind that. At all.

Strangely enough, he hadn’t even really considered that. Adrien was so concerned with _not_ figuring out who Ladybug was and pushing that conjecture to the far corners of his brain that he didn’t think about what he _felt_ about Marinette being Ladybug.

And he felt happy. _Extremely_ ecstatic.

Marinette was _so_ incredibly amazing. He couldn’t even begin to list what he liked about her. They only started to get to know to each other a year ago, and only recently were they becoming closer and closer. Adrien enjoyed spending time at Marinette’s home; it was warm and cozy and so full with love that he had desperately craved. Sabine and Tom were the _best_. There was practically nothing bad about visiting the bakery everyday.

There was also the fact that Adrien often visited Marinette as Chat.

The first was an impulsive decision. Was it a year ago, maybe more? Either way, Adrien can still recall the memory sharply: Marinette had offered him a comforting pep talk on one of the rare days where Adrien had let his sadness show. It was one of those days where his father wasn’t able to attend any of the events he had promised to attend, one of those days where he rubbed Ladybug the wrong way, one of those days where his best friend didn’t show up to school to cheer him up.

Instead, Marinette did. And her words were different from Nino’s. Nino would tell him all the things that were bad with his father and how unfair Adrien’s life was as a neglected child. Adrien appreciated that, really he did, but sometimes he felt as though Nino didn’t really understand.

Marinette—who wasn’t his close friend—did.

She told him how it was okay to be sad, how it was okay to hate his father, how it was okay to still want to impress him despite despising his every demand. She told him that Adrien wasn’t making wrong decisions, even though he felt like it. She told him how she would always listen, if he ever needed an ear.

Her words shocked him to his core. Adrien hadn’t expected her to say such things, hadn’t expected such truthful and a little negative words to actually _make him feel better._ He was intrigued and just because no one was home that night, took his own expanded to a homey bakery.

He was knocking on her trapdoor before Adrien could even second guess himself.

That opened the gate to all the visits he would make as Chat Noir. Talking to her as both of his alter egos sometimes confused him, needing him to make sure Adrien didn’t let anything slip, but he loved it. He loved every bit of it.

Slowly, but surely, Adrien knew he was getting closer to Marinette. Everytime he thought of this, he needed to resist the urge to throw both fists into the air and scream “ _YES!”._

Adrien also loved helping her with her projects. Adrien wasn’t a fashion designer, but he still had taste. Growing up in the world of fashion had forced him to look at things with an aesthetic eye.

And, Adrien still remembered the scarf. He confirmed it _was_ from Marinette when he wore it during a rare dinner with his father and the man hadn’t made a single comment regarding it. Plus, when Adrien wore it to school, Marinette would always try to avoid his eyes, flushing, all more so than usual. It _had_ to be from her. And although the thought that his father _hadn’t_ gotten him anything for his 15th birthday or that Nathalie _had_ lied to him, the realization that Marinette—who barely even knew him back then— _made_ him a gift with her bare hands warmed his heart to no end.

He knew he liked her. He knew he loved Ladybug What he hadn’t realized until he was lying on his bed with his arm covering his eyes, a whole sixth month period after a deep heart-to-heart with Ladybug, was that he was in love with Marinette and Ladybug. As one entity. In his head, there was no “Marinette” _or_ “Ladybug” anymore.

He had started to use the two names interchangeably.

  


 

 

Adrien was starting to understand why Ladybug was so adamant in keeping their identity a secret, their lives separate. Even though Marinette had explained it to him that one time, on the Eiffel Tower, she also implied there were more reasons than one.

Admittedly, Chat Noir had been too eager and persistent in wanting to know who Ladybug was, to reveal more about the girl he admired, to stop and _really_ consider _why_ she wanted to stay elusive.

Now that he knew Marinette was Ladybug, not to mention breaking her trust on so many levels, Adrien was terrified.

The first one being losing his friendship with her because he has sought out Ladybug’s identity.

There's more. He's scared that she won't like the idea of Chat Noir and Adrien Agreste being the same person. He knew the images were different. Knowing the Marinette admired Adrien Agreste enough to have clippings and magazines of his shoots put enough pressure on him. His father always wanted him to be a perfect, obedient role model child, and Chat Noir was anything but. Ladybug seems exasperated enough with Chat Noir and his (he’ll admit it) silly puns, but if she knew he was actually Adrien Agreste, supposedly cool, collected model? Adrien didn't know if he liked to find out.

The positive, sometimes more rational, side of him protested that Marinette was one of his closest friends, if not his best. She wouldn't cut him out of his life or hate him for that matter. She was nice, caring—understanding. Marinette just wasn't like that.

Still, fear crawled in his heart everytime he thought about it. The longer he delayed it, the bigger that terror grew. Before Adrien realized it, days turned into weeks and then into months and it had been almost a year since he discovered the secret.

Marinette would kill him. She would definitely kill him.

  


 

 

Sometimes, Adrien thought Marinette would forgive him. She was just that kind, after all. He recalled the situation with Nathaniel, and while it was _way_ milder, it still granted him hope.

“It's okay,” he heard her say one time. This was years earlier, maybe weeks after the first time Chat Noir had ever met Marinette.

The tone contained so much concern that Adrien paused in his walking. Curious, he glanced at the direction of the sound: the classroom. Marinette must still be in there.

“N-n-no, Marinette. I'm seriously sorry!” Adrien recognized the voice as Nathaniel. Maybe he shouldn't be eavesdropping on their conversation.

But he didn't leave.

Marinette laughed, a nice sound echoing through the the closed classroom door. “Seriously, Nathaniel, I don't mind.”

“I still should've asked for permission first,” the boy mumbled. “I know some people don't like it when others draw them—”

“Nathaniel!” Marinette said, and Adrien can catch the mirth in her voice. “I don't mind! _Really!”_

“I also made you damsel in distress,” Nathaniel continues on, almost rambling. “That was so rude of me. I know you're brave, Marinete, a-and _confident…”_ Adrien found himself nodding along with his classmates’s words, despite the fact neither of them can see him, considering they don't even know he's overhearing the conversation.

“Nathaniel, if you think I'm going to criticize you for wanting to seem heroic, then I'm not brave at all. I know I'd like to be a hero every once in while.”

 _She does?_ Adrien thought. He didn't think that's common for most girls. Then again, the only girl he really knew was Chloe, who always wanted to play royalty, prancing around like a queen.

 _Maybe she really did enjoy working with Chat Noir then._ Adrien had thought Marinette exaggerated her excitement, though he _had_ initially been excited to see that someone was so ecstatic to work with him.

“So don't worry about it, okay? It's totally fine! Though I can't speak for anyone else. You're right; some others might not appreciate it. But I do! Your drawings are _amazing,_ Nathaniel! I only wish I can draw as half as you do.”

“N-no,” Nathaniel murmured, “you're plenty good.”

Marinette giggled. “You're too kind. I disagree, but thanks for the compliment anyways!” There's a brief pause. “Oh! I have to go manage the bakery for my parents today—and _I'm_ _late_!”

Adrien heard Nathaniel's slight laughter. “Then you should go. Thanks for talking to me Marinette.”

“It's no problem. And really, I'm flattered! And you're very kind to have talked to me about this.”

They stopped talking and Adrien heard feet shuffling, papers rustling. Realizing that they're leaving, Adrien walked in the opposite direction, trying to make it seem like he was simply walking past.

When the doors slid open, Adrien's feet just walked past the classroom.

“A-A-Adrien!” Marinette squeaked. Nathaniel stood behind her, hands holding a sketchbook. Her face was flushed pink and he saw Nathaniel’s ears tinted red.

Somehow, the sight didn’t bode well in his chest.

 

(He doesn't figure out what that meant until later, however.)

 

 

 

Other times, Adrien was sure Marinette would be infuriated with him.

Something he was _sure_ Marinette would be irked about if she knew is something he tried doing at every occasion.

He liked to be vague. It was like an inside joke he had with himself.

Maybe it would be funny to Marinette years later, after they were together (he hoped, _so_ desperately), when he explained the situation to her. Maybe she would guffaw with him, fondly reminisce of how foolish they were.

But she didn’t know—not now.

“Good night” he would say, trying to keep his tone flat and removing any unnecessary mirth that might give him away. “See you tomorrow,” Chat would finish, even though he’s fairly certain Chat Noir won’t be visiting her tomorrow.

Adrien would be.

Marinette would nod, oblivious, and sometimes he just wants to tell her, the truth on the tip of his lips.

But of course, Adrien wouldn't say anything, at least until he cleared things up with her formally, but he still wasn't ready for that.

  


 

 

“Do you think girls would accept flowers and chocolate as a gracious apology?”

Nino almost spat out his drink. Fortunately, he didn’t. Unfortunately, he started to choke.

Adrien, being the great friend he is, thumped his best friend a couple times on the back, who nodded in thanks. Adrien was glad not a single drop of the soda spilled in the classroom; the professor would kill them. (Nino was secretly drinking while before the teacher arrived.) He wiped his mouth and looked back.

“What, you break a girl’s heart or something?” “Wouldn’t be the first time” he heard Nino mutter below his breath. Adrien narrowed his eyes.

“ _No,”_ he answered, indignant. “I'm just...preparing.”

“Preparing?” Nino looked suspicious. “You’re _planning_ on breaking a girl’s heart?”

“ _No!”_ Shaking his head furiously, he denied, “No! Oh god, no. I wouldn’t do that.”

“Yeah, it seems a bit far-fetched, even for you, Agreste.” Adrien rolled his eyes at the name. Nino only ever called him that when he was joking about Adrien’s reputation.

“Okay, any ideas?”

“I think flowers and chocolate sound good. Anything romantic right?”

“I don’t need it to be _romantic_ , Nino.” Adrien was about to remind his friend that he was _apologizing_ when a couple of his classmates walked by their desk.

Alix snickered. “Loverboy finally making his move?”

“‘Loverboy’?” Adrien repeated.

"To Marinette, of course."

"I never said it was  _Marinette!"_ he shouted, jumping up, red faced.

"Well, it wasn't hard to guess. That's not the question here," Nino said. "The question is  _what_ did you do?"

"I didn't do anything!" Adrien defended immediately, before deflating. Well, he did, actually.

" _Yet,_ " Alix added helpfully. "You want to ask her out or something?"

Seeing Alix's question, it's evident that she didn't hear his entire conversation with Nino, and only caught on with "Marinette" and "loverboy". Oh, she thought he liked her.

Which isn't wrong.

"I—" he stammered. Adrien's cheeks were growing hot. " _I—"_

He didn't have anything to say in defense. They weren't wrong. And neither was Adrien ready to admit to them he might've betrayed her. (Not that Marinette knew yet.)

Alix supplied a satisfied smirk before flicking her eyes to Kim, who looked rather crestfallen. Her fingers snapped, a harsh sound resounding through the classroom, one that made Adrien flinch, just a bit. Alix then smoothed out her fingers. With a heavy sigh, Kim handed over a couple of euros.

Adrien watched the exchange with disbelief. His eyes switched between his two classmates, continuing to go back and forth even as Alix clicked her tongue with happiness and spun away.

“You’re kidding me.”

Nino sent him a sympathetic look, but he’s also smiling. His best friend—“best” friend shrugged. “It’s been going on for a while, to tell you the truth. They also banned me and Alya from betting since no one trusted us to not have an unfair advantage.”

“They _banned_ you—meaning you actually had something to say?”

Nino froze, then turned slowly, trying for a sheepish grin. Adrien crossed his arms. “Well...Oh, _c’mon._ Do you think you’re so suave with those looks you send to her every minute of every day that no one in our class would bet on you?”

Adrien didn’t respond. He was absolutely speechless.

“Bro, come _on._ I swear, everyone knew. I bet you that even your gardener knew.”

“Yeah, you’d like that, huh?” Adrien retorted.

Nino looked surprised for a second, then laughed awkwardly. “Thanks, but I’ve got no spare change to spend on bets.”

“Now there’s a bummer,” the boy responded, dramatically shaking his head.

“And a shocker,” a new voice came. Adrien turned to see Alya enter through the doorway. She set her bag down at her seat with a flourishing grin, one that spoke of triumph. “Agreste doesn’t have money?  Better tell Marinette that she’ll be needing to start feeding her boyfriend her bakery treats to prevent starvation.”

“My father doesn’t allow me much spending money,” Adrien said stupidly, brain still not functioning. “I’m not her boyfriend.” That was a struggle to say. Even just by looking at Alya, he can see that the entire class was watching the exchange, definitely highly amused.

“Yet,” Alya added with a wink. The crowd that started to surround them chanted _ooh_ before breaking into peals of laughter. Adrien was practically combusting on the spot.

Trying to regain some of his composure, Adrien crossed his arms, attempting to go for a nonchalant look. It probably didn’t work. “Okay, _fine—_ I like Marinette. But we’re not dating, and there’s no saying that she even likes me.” He was still hesitant about that. Despite all signs that he had _hoped_ were signs, Adrien still had a feeling of unease residing in his stomach. An anxious thought that he was wrong.

However, as the words left his mouth, Alya just stared at him. Nino just stared at him. In fact, as Adrien looked around, everyone just stared at him.

“What?” he asked defensively.

“Dude,” Nino said.

“Dude,” Alya continued. The word, coming from her, gave him a shock.

“Dude,” various classmates chorused along, only making Adrien more and more self-conscious. Was he not getting something?

Nino shook his head, evidently disappointed.  His hand was at his forehead, like he was trying to wipe a massive headache away. “ _Dude._ ”

“ _What,_ ” Adrien repeated, trying to echo the same tone Nino gave him, but was more than likely failing. Nerves a wreck, he was sure his voice was two seconds from cracking.

“Dude!” Nino shouted, jumping towards him and throttling his best friend at the shoulders. “You’re kidding, right?”

“What? Why would I joke about that?” He swatted Nino’s hand away. Glancing around, he noticed that the people were giving him the same look of disbelief Nino wore. “W-what, you’re telling me Marinette _likes_ me?”

“Uh,” Alix said, hands at her hips, “duh?” She threw one hand up as if trying to wave the obvious around. And, as if they were in a movie, Adrien realized that the entire class was nodding in unison.

“Did literally _everyone_ know before me?”

The people around him snickered. “Dude,” Nino said helpfully, “she wasn’t subtle.”

Adrien quirked an eyebrow. Rolling his eyes, Nino explained, “C’mon. The looks. The _stares._ You’re not blind, are you? _”_

Alix snorted at the boy. “Out of all the thing she does, that’s what you point out?” Redirecting her attention to Adrien, she said, “The girl would _shriek_ when you touched her. And her smile? Jeez, Adrien, I don’t know if I’ve seen anyone else wear such a painfully revealing and awkward expression.” The rest of the class nodded.

“Okay, _okay,”_ Adrien said, trying to defend the remainder of his pride, ducking his face from the onlookers, “I get it.”

Alya grinned. “Do you?”

He looked at her.

“You realize this is the part where you’re supposed to court her, right?”

  
  


 

His friends live in the 19th century, if not even further past.

 _Courting?_ Were they serious?

Apparently Alya was.

“I'm not kidding, Agreste. If you don't do this properly and unnecessarily hurt Marinette, I _will_ kill you, no matter how much she likes you.” 

Nino had agreed, sending him a knowing look about the so called "plans" for breaking a girl's heart.

He wasn't sure how much of the threat was exaggerated (or _wasn't_ exaggerated).

Truthfully, Adrien _was_ worried he’ll hurt Marinette. There's the standard protocol of screwing up the confession or saying something he doesn't actually mean, but Adrien was mainly worried that he’s making a big mess with their secret identities.

Because he still hadn't told her. _Still_ hadn't admitted that he knew she was Ladybug for almost a year.

To be fair, he only really knew for sure for about half a year. The first six months had him roaming around, constantly ranging anywhere from 30% to 99.99% sure that Marinette Dupain-Cheng was Ladybug, before she had confirmed it firmly by talking about her best friend.

(Ladybug had always been hesitant in revealing anything personal, which was reasonable. It lead him here, after all.)

Adrien fell back on to his bed, heart a wreck. He honestly didn’t know what to do. He broke Ladybug’s trust and figured out who she was and here he stood (laid), thinking about ways to tell her he loved her—to her civilian self! From what he could gather from Ladybug’s brushes whenever he flirted, she didn’t anything closer to Chat Noir than they had right now.

Adrien groaned, rolling to his side. He was breaking Ladybug’s trust, through and through. He figured out who she was, didn’t tell her, and what’s worse, knows about her crush. In any circumstances, Adrien didn’t think Marinette would appreciate the fact that he talked about their relationship to their entire class. Alya had told him as much when she briefly mentioned that she was disappointed that the class (and herself) got to him before Marinette could.

Well, what was done was done. He shouldn’t contemplate it any longer.

But he did. Oh god, he did. Adrien would never be able to shake off the fact of how badly he broke Ladybug’s trust.

He wondered if she would forgive him if he pleaded his case of fear.

Adrien almost laughed. How ironic. Adrien, not telling her he knew his secret, out of fear, but also feared the aftermath of breaking her trust for keeping this secret of knowing her secret.

Oh, what a mess.

  
  


He caught her staring. Repeatedly.

Now that Adrien knew for sure Marinette liked him, the next several weeks that followed was coupled with his now intensified observations of Marinette. He noticed _everything._

Sometimes Adrien would be able to suppress the grin that was sure to appear on his face if he was alone or something, but obviously Marinette was in proximity of him. Instead, he would give the small smiles he gave everyone and ask, “what’s wrong?” when he knew exactly what was going on.

Sometimes Marinette would blush and shout “n-nothing” in reply. Other times she would fix her longing stare into a smirk and throw back a witty reply.

He wasn’t sure he liked better.

 

 

 

Adrien didn’t want to say he was disheartened when he Marinette took off those posters.

Because that’s just egoistic.

 _Sure,_ he had been elated when he saw that Marinette found him attractive enough to put his modeling spreads up in her room. Adrien knew that he was good looking to some extent—he had to be, for his modeling career. But the fact that _Marinette_ thought that is a whole new story.

So when Adrien entered Marinette’s room for the first time as Adrien Agreste, he had expected to see her decorated walls he had barely glimpsed at as Chat. He was excited to, even.

But he didn’t. He was disappointed with the empty walls glaring back at him.

Marinette asked him what’s wrong and he couldn’t have just told her he wanted to see his face in her room. That was wrong on so many levels.

Besides, that was so long ago. They were barely even good friends, let alone close enough to warrant such a strange question.

So Adrien didn’t bring it up.

But now that he knew Marinette liked him and now that he was hyper aware of her, he kept self doubting himself. Were they sure he liked him? Yeah sure...that many people couldn’t be wrong, but why would Marinette take off those posters other wise? She had to detest looking at his face to do such a thing right?

He tried to push the thought away, but it kept crawling back like a stubborn infection.

Maybe everyone was wrong. Maybe she didn’t like him anymore. 

 

 

 

“Adrien?” Marinette shrieked. “What are you doing here?”

He smiled. Surprising her never got old. “Just wanted to visit a friend.”

“It’s—” She whipped out her phone, glancing at the clock. “—8 o’clock.”

“And time stops friendship?”

Plagg would tease him for that cheesy line, but like Plagg had any right to complain about cheese.

Marinette flushed—a pretty pink, Adrien noted, with his own heart flipping and flopping—and glanced down, suppressing a grin and gestured wildly inside. “You can come in.”

“Thanks,” he said breezily, stepping over the threshold, his hands still laced behind his back. Marinette’s home was cozy as it always had been, but the _homeliness_ of it just always puts him at awe—and envy.

Walking up to her staircase, she warned, “Wait a sec okay? My room’s super messy.”

He laughed. “I doubt it. You’re the most organized person I know.”

Marinette’s cheeks blossom again, and she looks at him and back at the door, mumbling a quiet and strangled “t-thanks” before disappearing behind it.

 

“When did you turn in your essay?” he asked, as a means of making conversation. They had a paper due tonight at ten—a requirement their teacher thought would help them sleep earlier. Adrien snorted at that when the professor had explained as such. Nino would procrastinate until the last second, putting off other homework until ten. Then the boy would spend another three hours finishing it, sleeping at an early bedtime of one A.M.

Adrien expected a simple “oh, like, _days_ ago” or a “maybe an hour ago?” as a reply from Marinette but when there’s no immediate reply, he glanced up at the girl sitting a couple meters away from him. Marinette was absolutely frozen, her arms midway between its previous stop and it’s next one, her entire body indicating that she stopped suddenly.

Seconds ticked by, seconds of such length that Adrien wondered what he should say.

“ _I forgot about the essay!”_ Marinette shout-whispered. Her hands were slapped on her cheeks, her bright blue eyes dawned with horrible realization.

Adrien instantly shot up from his seat on the chaise and ran to her computer, turning it on and jerking the mouse, willing it to go faster. Marinette followed him, smoothly sitting and spinning around in her swivel chair and sliding over toward him. When the home screen asking for a password fired up, he automatically flipped around, giving Marinette privacy to type it.

“How much have you written?” he questioned, waiting. He heard the rapid typing, followed by a quick succession of tapping, which he can only assume is her backspacing her misspelled password. _Calm, Marinette,_ he thought.

“Actually, a lot of it, so this isn’t as bad.” Although the waver in her voice indicated otherwise. “Just half of the last body paragraph and the conclusion _and_ editing.” She groaned, her voice shrill.

“Okay, how about you send the file to me and I’ll edit what you have so far?”

“You’ll do that?” Marinette took a quick break from furiously finding the file and opening, looking over at him with stars in her eyes.

He struggled to keep a straight face. Clearing his throat, Adrien answered, “Y-yeah. Of course.”

“ _Thank you,_ Adrien!” More clicks, followed by a lightning swipe of her mouse. “Okay, sent! Just read the intro and the first two body paragraphs, okay?”

“Will do,” he said, grabbing Marinette’s tablet. He quickly found the email application, logged Marinette out and himself in.

He downloaded the file. When Adrien opened it, he smiled at her introduction. For him, it was usually the last thing he wrote, because it was hard getting his words out when he wasn’t sure what the rest of his body paragraphs really said, but Marinette always wrote her first. And she nailed it. The essay started off with a bang and he was sure if it was like this all the way through, Marinette would have nothing to worry about.

Adrien sat back down on the chaise, leaning his back against it, scrolling. While he read, he thought that Marinette never mentioned difficulties in literature, so even failing this essay—even if major—wouldn’t be too big of an impact. If she didn’t do as well as she usually did, she wouldn’t _fail_ the class or anything. Besides, Marinette’s essay, the bits he read so far, was already superb, so Adrien didn’t expect Marinette to receive a terrible, surprising grade.

Voicing his opinions, Marinette nodded, though it was obvious she was still nervous. She bit her lip as her fingers flew off her keyboard and before he knew it, Marinette was finished with the conclusion.

Adrien read it, decided it was great, and gave her essay another one over. After that was finished, Marinette said it was okay if he put the tablet away. If Adrien thought it was fine, then he didn’t need to proofread it again. However, Marinette did so, looking at it over and over again.

Then, right before Marinette was about to turn it in, Adrien asked, “You didn’t forget the bibliography, right?”

Marinette went ashen. Adrien groaned.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay!” she yelled, more to herself than him. Her hands were at the mouse and keys again, opening new tabs and documents. “I pasted links to all the articles I used in my notes document, so I’ll just cite those. And I have twenty minutes. Easy!”

Even with all that time left, Adrien still offered to help, but Marinette refused. “I got this. It’s my paper anyways. And you’ve helped enough. It’s been like—” Marinette glanced at the clock. _9:38._ When she turned back to him, her face wore puzzlement. “Adrien, it’s almost ten.”

He couldn’t help but say, “Your deadline.” It didn’t deter Marinette like he hoped it would. She continued to stare at him, wasting precious seconds from her essay writing.

“Shouldn’t you be getting home?”

Adrien should. Nathalie would call soon. That is, if she knew he was Marinette’s house working on her essay. But he had told the assistant that he’d be off at Nino’s for a dinner with his parents, and to expect him home late. He was older now, and with that, he had more liberties (surprisingly). Besides, his father was out of town, so he wouldn’t be personally checking up on Adrien.

If this were a couple years ago, however, Nathalie would’ve kept minute-by-minute updates for Gabriel Agreste. She may even inquire Nino if the so-called dinner was actually happening (who would still totally back him up). But it wasn’t.

“Eh,” Adrien said, causing Marinette to raise her eyebrows. “Father’s not home,” he finished, as if it explained everything.

It did. For Marinette at least. She didn’t know they had that connection that required no words when they were Ladybug and Chat Noir, but Adrien liked to think that after all these years of being friends with Marinette, they had some sort of understanding that was incomparable. Marinette nodded understandingly, spinning back around to face her computer.

Well, almost. Adrien doubted Marinette knew the reason he didn’t want to go home was because he wanted to spend more time with the girl furiously trying to finish a literature assignment.

But the tips of her ears were dipped with red and Adrien found himself smiling. Maybe she had a hunch, then.

 

  

“Can I see you newest design?”

Marinette, busy with her hands, with ten minutes left and trying to finish the bibliography for the essay on time, didn’t even glance at him. “Sure,” she said, her fingers firing off at her keys. Adrien glanced once at her fast moving fingers, picturing a machine gun, and wondered if she would need to get her keyboard replaced afterwards.

He walked around the room, touching the fabric that hung loosely against her mannequin. That one was almost finished; a flowy dress Adrien had seen Marinette work on for the past couple of months. Considering that it’s almost complete…

He pulled out the second drawer, finding fabrics marked with pins. _Aha!_ Adrien took it out carefully with a flourishing grin. A fluttery blue overlaid with sheer pink. _Great choice._ It looked like a skirt, and knowing Marinette, she would create other pieces to go with it, in order to complete the set. She just started, so she might not have much, but still. Adrien expected a sketch here and there.

He rummaged in the drawer, hoping to find something more, but only got layers of unused or leftover fabrics. No in progress pieces or even sketched figures. Frowning, Adrien pulled out the first drawer, hoping Marinette had misplaced her sketchbooks in the first instead of putting them in the second.

Instead, he got his face.

His breathing stopped.

Adrien’s eyes snapped up to Marinette’s walls—her _bare_ walls—and almost gave himself a whiplash in the process. He remembered he had a brief glance of her (amazingly) decorated walls when he visited once as Chat Noir. And the next time? Adrien Agreste met eye-to-eye to natural, empty pink walls.

She kept them.

Adrien stuck his hand under around halfway of the stack, lifting it up. A magazine from three years ago. Fall edition. Adrien remembered being particularly fond with the results; they came out _fabulously_ and his father even complimented him for doing a great job.

There was a small sticky note on the spread, and curious, Adrien slipped out the magazine and read it. Marinette’s cute handwriting pointed to his face and said, “Great shoot! Even his father said it was good, according to Adrien.”

Three years ago. They weren’t close then, but were acquainted well enough to tell each other their ups and downs. He didn’t exactly recall his conversation, but apparently Marinette cared about it enough to write it down.

If Nino were here, he may make a light joke about Marinette being just a little stalkerish, but rather than feeling creeped out with the large stack of glossy papers with his face on it, Adrien felt his heart skip a beat. Skip _multiple_ beats.

 

She still liked him.

  
  


 

 

Just thinking about it made him want to roll around in his bed.

To which, Plagg would groan and persistently whine until Adrien fed him cheese.

Marinette liked _him._

A _lot._

Sometimes Adrien still couldn’t believe it. Ladybug, who always pushed him away when he so much tried to hold her hand, _liked_ him.

His heart fluttered at the thought.

Adrien rolled to the side of his bed, covering his face with his pillow. He was burning up.

He liked her a lot too.

  
  


 

 

He can’t stop staring.

He would always make sure to turn away when she gave any side of turning her head, however.

 

 

 

 

 

“Bro, you gotta tell her.”

Adrien sent Nino a sidelong look. “I know,” he replied. Alya was already getting on his case but he just wanted to get the perfect moment. He took another look at Marinette, who stood in the gymnasium several feet away. She caught his look and Adrien felt his ears warm. Marinette smiled and waved. He waved back.

“Dude.”

Adrien redirected his attention to Nino. Seeing his face, Adrien smiled, a little defeated.

“I know.”

  


 

 

 

“She still doesn’t know that I know,” Adrien had pointed out to Plagg when he, too, complained about his ineptitude. “I’m not ready.”

He still hadn’t told her that he knew she was Ladybug. She probably had no clue.

  


 

 

 

He wondered how badly she would murder him when she found out.

Adrien pictured Marinette throwing her yo-yo at him, tying him up and angrily yelling at him. He saw her giving him the silent treatment for a good month. He imagined her furious expression, animatedly ranting to herself, eyebrows furrowing and pinched, before looking at him.

He can’t help but to smile.

 _It’ll be worth it,_ he decided. _And any longer would just multiply the damage she might inflict._

Though he knew that wasn’t really true.

Still, sometimes Adrien would get waves of panic, and instead of coming with ideas of the reveal, he would block it away from his mind. _She’ll hate me. I’ve lied to her for too long._

Maybe just not telling her would be the best bet...

  
  
  


He should tell her.

Adrien should definitely tell her. It’s been over a year since he had a hunch about Ladybug’s secret identity. He’s completely sure by now, obviously.

But she wanted to keep it as a secret. It was plain as day how much she wanted to keep her superhero life separate.

She would kill him. She would _really_ kill him. She might even hate him—forever.

  
  


 

“You know she’s my best friend, right?”

Alya stood in front of him, arms crossed. The brunette wore a disapproving glare—one eyebrow raised and a small scowl.

Adrien smiled sheepishly. “She’s mine, too,” he tried. Alya fixed him with a stare. The boy sighed. “Okay, well, I’m not going to _abuse_ her or anything like that.” He’s afraid he already did.

Alya rolled her eyes. “Of course not. If I thought you were, your head would be twisted behind your back.”

“ _Twisted_ behind my _—_ what kind of movies do you even watch?”

“Ones where the best friend doesn’t betray the main character.”

“Am I the main love interest?” Alya shot him a deadpan look. Adrien held up his hands in surrender. “You’re not _betraying_ her—”

“—I’m only giving you dirt on her?”

“It’s not _dirt_ —”

“It’s blackmail.”

Adrien breathed in, then out.

“I just want some proof. Y’know? To give me confidence.”

The girl smirked. “A model needing confidence to know if a girl likes him?”

“You know that looks aren’t everything. That Marinette doesn’t only care about looks.”

“You’re calling yourself good looking now?” When Adrien didn’t return the joke, Alya sighed. “I know.” She cocked her head. “I never thought you would need confidence. It was never a worry I had.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You had others?”

The blogger scoffed. “You kidding me? Believe me, I have had _years_ to run through all sorts of scenarios through my head. All sorts of disastrous outcomes.”

 _I bet us being superheroes wasn’t a factor,_ Adrien thought, still worried Marinette would hate h forever after he told her. “Do you have anything?”

“Any possible outcomes?” Alya raised her eyebrow. “You'll confess, she'll confess, you'll make out—”

Adrien coughed. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

Alya sent him a deadpan look. “Are you kidding me? You better kiss the hell out of her, considering the torment you’re putting her through.”

“The torment _I’m_ putting her through _?”_ If only Marinette knew. She was driving him mad, what with her smiles and sparkling blue eyes and that _face_ she makes when she’s happy...Adrien can hardly think straight with Marinette around, though he guessed that was already established.

Alya kept her arms crossed, unrelenting.

“Please? You guys all say she likes me—”

“She _does_. How is that even a question?”

“But I could use a little proof. You know, anything for a push.” Truth was, Adrien knew Marinette liked him. And he knew she trusted him and would never kick him out or throw him away. Of course not; this was _Marinette Dupain-Cheng._ But despite all that, Adrien still had that humongous fear that Marinette will never forgive him. So what Adrien was really doing with Alya was to get her to tell him something that told Adrien she would; a sign if you will.

“Proof.” The girl scoffed, blowing a little of her hair out of her face. “There is so much proof that she likes you that I don’t even know where to begin.”

Adrien stared at her patiently.

“Okay,” Alya said, looking extremely exasperated with herself. She held up a finger. “You can _never_ tell her I told you this but you guys seriously need a push to solve that goddamn sexual tension of yours. You wanted dirt on Marinette?”

Adrien can barely follow along. “I didn’t ask for _dirt—”_

“She stole your phone once several years ago. That time you lost your phone for a while—she had it. She knew you were at fencing—hell, she knew your entire schedule. Her crush on you was a little out of hand, to be honest.”

He blinked. And blushed. “She knew my schedule? Why would she even steal my phone?” There were so many questions he needed to ask; half the things Alya said barely made sense.

“To get to know your shit better, what else?” Adrien’s eyes widened and Alya rolled her eyes. “She tried calling you to ask you out once. The little spaz can’t get two words out without stammering so she thought a call would be better.” Alya looked at Adrien. “You were at fencing.” She looks back at her hand, counting off her fingers, “You didn’t pick up, she freaked out, she threw your phone on her bed without hanging up, didn’t know that and continued talking to me, revealed some embarrassing stuff”—Alya shot him a look—“what else could be done to fix all that without stealing your phone?”

Adrien could only stare at her. “Is that all?” Alya smirked and crossed her arms. “To delete the voicemail?”

“You _could_ have less sophisticated technology so it would make it easier for two innocent best friends to a crush’s phone and delete an embarrassing voicemail.” Alya brushed her hair back. “Though I did manage it.”

“That’s...uh, wow.”

Alya fixed him with a stare. “What else did you think she could do?”

“Explain the situation?” The girl shot him a look. _Are you serious?_

“If she told me how much she wanted it deleted, I wouldn’t even have listened to it.”

“She can barely talk to you. How do you think she would’ve managed that?”

Fair point. “Was it that bad?”

“You tell me. What did you think of Marinette speaking skills back then?”

She had him again. “Okay, I see what you mean. How does that help me?”

Alya groaned and threw her hands in the air. “Just because the girl doesn’t stutter like hell in front of you anymore doesn’t mean her feelings has changed. She still likes you. _That_ much.” She poked him in the chest a couple times. Adrien backed away. “Even more so, now that you’re potentially stealing my spot for the best friend title.”

Adrien frowned. “I could never replace you.” Alya raised an eyebrow. “She’s _your_ best friend.”

“Best girl friend, maybe,” she conceded, “but I know there are things she’s not telling me.”

“There are things she doesn’t tell me either.” Alya gave an unconvincing “hm”. “ _Seriously,”_ he said. “You’re the best friend; I’m nothing more than the love interest.”

Alya shoved him. “I can’t tell if you’re giving yourself too much credit or too less. You’re important to her too. Also, you’re very smug about this whole ‘love interest’ thing.”

Adrien can’t stop the grin stretching on his face. “Yeah? Well, isn’t it expected considering how much she likes me?”

“Then you should get your ass moving. You’re doing it this weekend, right?”

“You make it sound like I’m assassinating her or something.”

“You practically are. You’re too happy about this.” Adrien opened his mouth to protest but Alya started to poke him again. “You _are._ And I know you can’t help it, so I’m not even going to bother to tell you to stop, because you won’t be able to. Marinette’s going to see right through that. And then she will blush. Massively.”

“That’s not bad.” _Look,_ he finished mentally, _That’s not a bad look at all._

“Yep,” Alya confirmed, eyes narrowed. “You’re too happy about this.” She shrugged. “I guess it’s okay though, since she’ll be pretty happy afterwards too.”

Adrien grinned.

 

 

 

 

“She might just murder you when you tell her.”

He tried not to let that get to him. Instead, Adrien tried to busy himself with his hands, finding his pencils, tablets, papers, anything necessary for a study session. There wasn’t any huge test or midterm coming up—only a simple quiz—but a lot of their classmates were going to join in and hit the library together. He zipped up his bag.

“I know,” Adrien said. “But it’ll be worth it.” That’s what he was trying to convince himself, anyways.

“You _could’ve_ just told her a year ago. You would’ve been together for a year.”

“Oh, don’t give me that what could’ve been. I didn’t know her as well a year ago.”

“You still knew her,” Plaag pointed out, “rather well.”

“Yeah, yeah—oh, a call.” Adrien picked up his phone, seeing that it was from Nino. When he accepted the video call, he realized Alya was on the other side of the line, too.

“Study session is cancelled,” Nino said through the video chat. “Sucks.”

“And I really needed that review.” Alya groaned. “The quiz is on Tuesday, and I barely understand anything.” Alya’s perked up with a sudden idea. “Why don’t we just add Marinette to our video chat? We can add the other classmates too, if you want. But I think it would get too messy. What do you think, Nino?”

“I’m down.”

Alya looked at Adrien.

“I, uh,” Adrien said, “actually will go with Marinette. It’s raining, but I can still go to her house.”

Alya gave him a knowing look. Adrien hung up immediately. His heartbeat raced, pounding in his ears, and he tried to calm himself. Adrien placed a hand on his chest, feeling its thumps.

“Plagg?”

“What,” his kwami said from under the covers.

“We’re going out.”

“You’re visiting Marinette today? Weren’t you going to kiss her tomorrow?”

“I was going to _tell_ her tomorrow, but there’s been a change of plans.”

“I’ll get the bandages ready.”

 

 

 

 

Alya was going to kill him.

After Marinette was done, of course.

He might’ve just teased her a _little_ too much.

But that's okay, decided Adrien, as he smiled into Marinette's hair. It was worth it.

 

 

 

 

She didn’t kill him.

At this point, he knew Marinette wasn’t completely angry with him (even if he had vestiges of fear).

Marinette certainly got in quality attempts to, however.

“Should I even let you in?” Marinette hissed when he showed up at her door a couple hours ago. Adrien grinned and Marinette narrowed her eyes even more.

“I brought flowers?” he said, bringing out the bouquet from behind his back.

“Hm,” Marinette gave, turning slightly away, crossing her arms and closing her eyes. Adrien was still smiling.

“And a fashion magazine? It's a longer issue, with pages they had before editor has them removed. Small annotations, too.”

Marinette turns back to him, arms still crossed. “I might be persuaded to let you in.”

“Mmm,” he murmured, not missing the way Marinette’s eyes darted to his lips. His chest flips. “Is it a hard decision?” Adrien asked, barely aware of the words he’s saying.

She made a weird sound in her throat, her face flickering between two different expressions, fighting for victory. “Not at all,” Marinette squeaked

“I also brought a picture of me, ‘cause I don’t quite think your collection is big enough—”

She slammed the door in his face.

Maybe his girlfriend should take on Hawkmoth’s plans, because if she had taken his Miraculous, he wouldn’t be able to get in. But in the next minute, he had slid down her trapdoor and tiptoed to the living room, where he could hear she was still fuming to herself, ranting to Tikki.

“The _nerve_ of him!” he heard her say.

“What nerve?” Adrien asked her cheekily. Unfortunately, he hadn’t caught her on surprise. Marinette spun on her heel, grabbed him by his bell, and threw him against the wall.

“Even without transformation, my lady?” Adrien whistled. “You never cease to impress me.”

“And you never cease to annoy me,” she replied, lowering her self to his eyelevel. Marinette grabs his collar harshly and Adrien prepares himself for her second hurl.

She kissed him instead.

Adrien sunk into the kiss instantly and cups her face. He also decides the transformation isn’t really needed anymore, and sees a brilliant flash of green behind his closed eyelids. He parts from her but his eyes are still closed and Marinette’s still clutching his the soft cotton of his t-shirt and Adrien really likes this, really likes _her._

Then she released him and did hurl him across the room.

“You never cease the surprise me either,” he said with a flourishing grin.

“Get up, you stupid cat,” she told him, holding a hand out. He took it and Marinette pulled him up. “What are doing here?”

“I can't visit my girlfriend?” They both flushed at the word. Adrien grinned at her, his face warm, but despite being slightly embarrassed, he enjoyed every moment. He watched with delight as Marinette struggled to maintain her composure, vigorously fighting down a blush that’s creeping up her cheeks.

“Not if he can't help teasing me.” She leaned in to peck him again. “Do you want to finish this?” Marinette grabs a DVD case from the coffee table and holds it up. It’s the second of movie of the one they watched a couple days ago. Marinette’s favorite, he remembered. Truthfully, he didn’t enjoy it that much, though it _was_ good. Just not his type of genre.

Adrien wrapped a hand around her shoulders, kissing the side of her head, his lips landing on her soft hair. “Sure,” he answered her.

Marinette giggled, dragging him to the seat next to her on the couch. He sat closer than he usually does, but considering yesterday, he’s happy he had the liberty to do so.

His girlfriend picks up the remote that she placed on the couch’s rest arm and clicks it on. Adrien snickers when he sees that it’s paused five minutes into the movie.

“What’s the point of asking me if I want to watch it if you already started? You'll just finish it anyways.”

She shoots him a knowing smirk. “I knew you’d say yes.”

“You know me well.”

“Mhm.” His heart skipped more than one beat when Marinette abruptly dragged her legs over, placing them over his lap. Adrien felt his neck warm, his ears burn.

Marinette looked at him questionably. “Are you okay?” As if she had no idea.

“Yeah,” he breathed. Marinette nodded, and went back to watching the movie.

He could barely concentrate. Which is a little disheartening because he wants to try to enjoy it as Marinette is. But between her legs wrapped over his and warm hands touching his bare arms, Adrien hardly has a rational thought.

_She’s practically sitting on me._

“I have a question,” Marinette asked suddenly. Her attention is still focused on the movie, but Adrien can read from her eyes that it’s anywhere but.

“Yeah?”

“What did you think when you figure out I was Ladybug?”

He looked at her. Her eyes barely darted to him, but he was able to see it; he always had that connection with her, even when she tried hiding it. Adrien flickered back to the conversation they had a year ago: Marinette admitting her fear of not living up to expectations.

Glancing at his girlfriend, his _wonderful_ partner, Adrien’s almost disappointed in himself that he didn’t resolve this fear of hers earlier.

“What did I think? Well,” Adrien said, smiling a little as he watches the movie, “I tried pushing away the thought that you were Ladybug.” In the corner of his eye, he saw her lips quiver. In his hands, he felt her stiffen. _Marinette,_ he pleaded, _listen, I won’t hurt you. “_ You trusted me and I respected you; I wasn’t about to go about figuring out who Ladybug was without your permission.”

She looked at him. “But you did,” she croaked.

“That’s because...I couldn’t stop thinking about it. You and Ladybug—I don’t even know. You’re just so similar, in more ways than you can see. Just one day, I realized...I already saw you as one person. _I’m_ surprised I didn’t let anything slip. With how comfortable I was seeing you two as the same person, I thought I would’ve mentioned something I told _Ladybug,_ not Marinette.” Adrien laughed, scratching his cheek. “I mean, you are the same person, but you didn’t know I knew that.”

“So...you aren’t—”

“Marinette,” Adrien said. “You’re my best friend. You’re my partner. Don’t _ever_ think I would be disappointed in you, okay?”

She didn’t brighten. She softened, but she didn’t relax. The tension in her face was still plainly evident. Marinette didn’t smile that smile he wanted to see, that happy face she always had.

“Marinette,” Adrien started again, feeling this immense need to make her feel wanted, special, “you said so yourself, right? I knew you were Ladybug and it didn’t change our relationship. A whole year—I’m really sorry about that. But we’re still best friends, partners aren’t we?”

“More than that,” Marinette replied, pecking his lips.

“I don’t think so. Lovers have that, yes, but I think that you and I always have each other’s backs. We’re always there for each other, right? We didn’t need to date for that.”

Marinette looked up at him then, and then—then she gives him that smile he’s been waiting for. Her lips stretch, her eyes glimmer and Adrien can’t help but to lean in. His eyes haven’t closed yet so he can count each individual freckle on her face, and there’s a lot of them. A lot of those beautiful spots marked on her skin that Adrien wanted to kiss. He might take a while just counting them all, but that’s something he doesn’t mind spending forever doing.

“But I’m still glad we are,” Marinette whispered, and all of his lingering, suppressed worries regarding her not forgiving him for keeping this secret for an entire year was washed away. He pressed in close, the same time Marinette invited him to her, and they sit on her couch, kissing, for what felt like hours.

“I have a question, too,” he told her when they part. Marinette’s eyes were half hooded, glazed over. His heart won’t calm down at the sight.

“What?” she asked.

He chuckled, kissing her nose. “What was your reaction when you found out I was Chat Noir? You didn’t figure it out like that I did and I’m sure that must’ve been shocking…”

“Hmm,” Marinette pondered, a hand at her chin. “I was a little surprised at first,” she admitted, “but even though it’s only been about twenty-four hours since I found out...I don’t feel any different.” Marinette laughed. “I think it’s because you’re my best friend and I knew you better than I thought I did. I just never realized.”

“And you’re okay with it? With liking me—liking Chat Noir…”

Marinette blinked. Then flushed—massively. He would never tired of that sight. “I—I, uh...”

He nodded a little, patiently bidding her to continue.

Marinette swallowed, closing her eyes as if to steel herself. “I liked you—both of you. Adrien and Chat Noir. I hated it because you kept on confusing me…” She looked away, embarrassed.

He smiled. _Really_ smiled. Marinette must hate him for it because her eyes peeked at his before darting away with mortified fury.

She was so _cute._ Though he needed to remedy this issue.

Adrien’s knuckles brushed her cheek. Marinette didn’t flinch like he almost expected her to, but instead actually leaned into him. Adrien tried not to burst with happiness right then and there.

He loved her _so_ much.

“You confused me too,” he finally said. She stared at him, shocked and puzzled. “I mean, significantly less, since I guess I caught on earlier. But you made me really confused. I couldn’t fathom how much I liked you.”

She’s practically burning right in front of him. Adrien didn’t bother concealing his grin.

He swooped down to kiss her again.

“I like you,” she whispered against his lips. “I like you, I like you, I like you.”

“I like you, too.” Adrien kissed her too. “I like you so much.” Feeling over the moon, Adrien held on to her hips and spun her. She giggled gleefully, face red as Marinette tried to steady him by placing her hands on his shoulders. “I like you, I like you, I like you, I like you,” he paralleled her, setting her down and connecting foreheads, “I like you _so much_.”

Her breath is intertwined with laughter. “That was one too many, I think.”

“Can’t be. I’m saying how much I like you.”

She blushed at his cheesiness and he did a little too. But Adrien didn’t mind. They were both hopeless romantics.

“I can’t believe this,” Marinette confessed. “That was only _yesterday…_ ”

“Me neither,” admitted Adrien, “though according to Nino, we acted like we were already dating…”

She wrinkled her nose. “Please. I would’ve known.”

He laughed. “Really? You didn’t react to my flirtations the same way when Chat Noir flirted with Ladybug.” Marinette flushed—a lot. More than Adrien expected she would.

“That’s—that’s because Chat Noir—yo-you didn’t—you weren’t _serious!”_

Adrien gaped at her. His jaw literally dropped. There was a pause. A pregnant one. “ _What?_ ”

Marinette was stubbornly angry. Stamping her feet, she insisted, “You weren’t!” Her hands was whacking the air violently now.

He continued to stare at her.

“You weren’t?” Marinette asked tentatively, dropping her fire when Adrien didn’t respond to her for maybe an hour. “I mean...I wasn’t sure if you were?”

“You weren’t sure,” he repeated, incredulous. She wasn’t sure. If the entire class hadn’t asserted that they were hopelessly in love with each other, Adrien _might’ve_ not been overwhelmed with perplexity. “You weren’t _sure._ ”

“I wasn’t, okay?” Marinette snapped, though Adrien could tell she’s embarrassed. “You were Chat Noir and yeah, you flirted with me, but you flirted with Marinette, too! How was I supposed to know that was real?”

He groaned.

“You’re the only person I ever flirted with,” he said finally, ignoring the blush that’s crawling at the back of his neck.

Marinette whirled towards him, eyes wide.

“I admit, I flirted with you without knowing you were the same person. But you were. And I guess I _wasn’t_ serious initially…” He scratched the back of his head, unsure how to about this. “I did like you. I didn’t know _how_ I liked you...Not to mention, I’m more open as Chat Noir.”

“You got that right,” Marinette mumbled. He chuckled and pulled her in. She buried herself into the crook of his neck.

“Did you like me flirting with you?”

“You better shut up right now, kitty, unless you want to be thrown across the room again.”

“Ah, the perks of having a superhero as your girlfriend.” Adrien pulled away, watching her glowing face. He brushed her bangs back.

“Don’t tease me.”

“Now don’t go asking for the impossible.”

Watching her blush massively again, freckles illuminated clearly, Adrien decided that he would never tire of teasing her.

 

 

 

 

But now, _now_ Adrien thinks he’s getting what he deserves.

He could _hear_ Ladybug’s smirk when he exhaled, eyes closed in pleasure, and Adrien briefly wondered if this was how Marinette felt like when he did the same.

She pulled her head back and he opened his eyes to see a beautifully confident expression gracing her face, lips curled up in the corner. “Is this the part where I say ‘cat got your tongue’, handsome boy?”

It’s thrilling, Adrien noticed as his heart flips, when Ladybug utilized both his identities like that. He leaned down, lips barely touching. “It seems that way, doesn’t it?” he asked, brushing his lips over hers, but pulling away when she leaned forward. It’s a little disappointing when she didn’t flush massively like he’s used to, but it’s also exhilarating when Ladybug smirked in reply, sensually tucking one finger around his collar and pulling it towards her, slowly. His nose bumped with hers, and his heart is beating so erratically, Adrien’s not sure if he’s ever going to regain his calm.

Her breath was intoxicating. Adrien’s eyes fluttered shut when Ladybug’s mouth hovered over his and her hands crawled up his hip and towards his chest. He can’t feel the cool of her fingertips or the warm of her palm when she’s Ladybug, yet the touch of her gloves was equally appealing. He sighed heavily when she dragged a finger down his chest.

“Can you kiss me already?” he asked. Adrien was unable to suppress the slight quirk of his lips when Ladybug laughed. She pulled her hand away from his chest, which was bothersome but as she drifted her fingers lower, at an almost painstakingly slow rate, Adrien’s heart threatened to burst. He heard his sigh again and Ladybug’s fingers left him.

She brings both her hands up, cupping his face, and Adrien tilted his head, anticipating her kiss. Instead, Ladybug kept propelling her head forward, at an angle, passing his lips to kiss his jaw. He shifted his head to give her a better angle, getting just a bit annoyed now when he felt her smug lips curve under his neck.

“Satisfied, are we?” he managed without tripping over his words. _Kind of,_ Adrien added, when a strange sound finished his question as Ladybug bit his ear gently. After she’s done with that new aspect to this innovative form of (admittedly pleasing) torture, he felt her lean up, her chest brushing his, so she could whisper, “Consider it payback.”

She pulled back, triumphant grin lighting her features and Adrien tried to roll his eyes. Or anything of the sort to indicate that he’s not completely entranced by her. But he was. Completely and entirely.

He let her roll around in her victory for a couple seconds, before Adrien decided he’s done with Ladybug teasing him, and tugged tightly on her left arm. She’s too immersed with her victory to anticipate it, and her accomplished expression dropped just a bit when Adrien successfully had her close, his left arm wrapped around her waist. He didn’t waste a single second (or give her any to plan her strategy) and leaned in to press his lips to hers.

It seemed she’s finished teasing him too, because she melted and her arms were thrown around his neck in an instant. Ladybug stepped on her tippie-toes to pull them together closer, effectively dragging Adrien down to her level.

When he stepped forward, Ladybug took one back, and they’re awkwardly fumbling until he heard Ladybug’s calf hit the edge of his bed. Adrien broke apart for a brief moment to see her. Her eyes were dazed, but when Adrien’s eyes dart to the bed behind her, Ladybug grinned widely, made a grab his collar and fell on to his soft bed, pulling him down with her.

His hands shot out frantically to hold himself, worried that Adrien would crush her under his weight, but Ladybug seemed like she could care less. She’s kissing him again before his mind even recovered from his initial concern, and distracted, Adrien’s stiff body relaxed under her touch.

Ladybug drew her head back, resting it on his covers, breathing heavily. Her cheeks were tinted with pink, not as red as Adrien was used to seeing on Marinette, but the sight still made his heart soar. He leaned down again, lips touching the area below her chin, and murmured, “How much more do I need to kiss you until you’re as red as your suit?”

He laughed outright when Ladybug swatted him. “Are you ever _not_ going to be cheeky?”

“Hmm,” he said, as if actually thinking, eyes locked with Ladybug’s. Grinning, he pressed another kiss to the bridge of her nose. “No.”

“Ugh,” Ladybug tried, but it’s poor. There’s barely any actual irritation in it. “You’re horrible.”

“Mhm,” he agreed, though he hasn’t completely registered what she said. Adrien’s busy kissing her forehead, her cheeks, her nose again, pulling away again to get a good look of her face.

His breath hitched when Ladybug’s hands tucked under the hem of his shirt again. Her hands roamed his back. She pulled them towards his upper body. Higher up his back, his shirt riding up as she does so.

“If you want my shirt off, you can just ask.”

“And where’s the fun in that?” Ladybug raised an eyebrow. One of her hand dipped, and Adrien shuddered when her fingers crawl on the side of his torso, dancing towards his chest.

“I think you’re getting a head start,” he whispered, partly because he’s trying to be just as seductive as she was right now, but mainly because Adrien didn’t think his voice can go much louder without squeaking or something that’s just as mortifying.

“Is that your roundabout way of inviting me to go shirtless?”

Adrien burned. Ladybug was scary, almost. He didn’t expect Marinette to say something so straightforward, but Ladybug thew it out there without blinking.

“I’m just,” he begined, his words caught in his throat as Ladybug raised her eyebrow, her mask curved, expectant. “I’m just, uh, thinking that you should give Tikki a break.”

“Oh please,” she said, flicking his forehead. “You're just too undone.”

“And who's fault is that?” he asked, eyes hooded when he drops his head closer to her's. Ladybug tilted just her chin up, giving him a closed lip, chaste kiss. It's absolutely delicious.

A bright light of pink bounced behind his closed eyelids, and when he opened them, the vestiges of pretty sparkles fluttered in his vision. Adrien grinned, one Marinette returned with a beam, and he's leaning down to kiss her forehead, the skin below her brow, the curve under the waterline of her eye.

“You're pushy today, kitty,” she said, her actions contradicting her words when her fingers carded through his hair. From being with her for almost half a year, Adrien had been quite acquainted with the fact that Marinette loved his hair.

His heart thrummed. Pushing himself further towards her, Adrien hoped that it’s enough indication for what he wants. When Marinette’s hold on the ends of his locks tightened, he smiled through their kiss, humming. She knew him too well.

Adrien felt her giggle a little through her kiss, and before he was even aware, she’s pulling away and getting off the bed. Still not thinking clearly, he wantingly crawls towards where she’s leaving. Marinette noticed, laughed, and pressed another small kiss to his lips.

“Good to know, but we should probably get started.”

“On what?” he asked, still trying to pull her towards him. She allowed him, for a brief second that was. She’s far enough to avoid his lips, but close enough to tap him on his nose.

“Our project. I don’t want to fail history.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” he mumbled, lying on his back in the bed alone as Marinette hopped off. She laughed again and Adrien dragged his eyes from the sight of his boring ceiling to Marinette’s back. She sauntered to his chair, spinning in it as she pushed herself to his desk.

“I still can’t believe you have three monitors. Is that even necessary?” Adrien caught her briefly scrunching her nose and tapping the desktop on. It flickered to life, shooting up the home screen as the computer slowly wakes up. He knows the feeling.

Still groggy from her heated kisses, Adrien managed to roll over to his front and sit up on the bed. Marinette’s tapping her cheek patiently as she waited for all his programs to load, for the browser to open up so they can start research.

However, when the desktop came up, Marinette’s fingers didn’t direct the mouse towards the icon for internet; instead, Marinette clicked on his files.

“What are you doing?” he asked her, still rather distracted. The girl didn’t answer him, but simply scrolled through his recents.

Adrien strode towards her, slinging his body over hers, hugging her towards him. His eyes drooped from exhaustion, ready to just take a nap standing with his arms wrapped around Marinette like this when something caught his eye.

Marinette’s cursor hovered over Pictures, and too late, Adrien realized what she’s doing.

“Wait!” he shouted, arm shooting out to stop hers, but Marinette’s a million steps ahead of him.

She gave Adrien a taste of his own medicine.

“What, you didn’t want to tell me about the thousands of pictures you have in a folder called ‘Ladybug wonders’?”

He tried to play it cool. _Really,_ he did. But Adrien couldn’t help the flush that grew on the back of his neck and he’s almost sure his entire face was burning.

“Y-yeah,” he managed, which was quite embarrassing. He just stood there, maybe a meter away from his girlfriend of six months, who turned around from the computer and smugly reclined in his soft chair. A hand propped her chin up, and although she’s sitting in a simple, modern chair, Adrien thought  that she looked like a queen.

She got up, a move that’s ten times more graceful and knee-weakening than it should be, and Marinette placed a hand at his shoulder. It practically burned him.

“Wasn’t going to bother telling me how _wonderful_ I am?”

“I tell you that plenty,” he murmured, still completely entranced with her entire being. God—she was going to kill him.

“Hm,” she responded and flipped back, her hair smacking him in the process because of how close she was standing. Marinette sat back in her seat and selected all his pictures, previewing them. Her eyebrows raised when she gets to the pictures of Ladybug eating cookies from the bakery. She smiled a little when a particularly close up picture comes up, her bright blue eyes illuminated clearly. “These are nice pictures.”

“I know right?” he agreed immediately and Marinette laughed. She continued scrolling, almost deleting one photo of her making a silly face. Adrien’s able to stop her in time; Marinette relents, moving on to the next couple. Her face scrunched up at a particular close up of her drinking a soda; she must’ve thought she looked unappealing, but Adrien didn’t save the photo to his computer for _nothing._

Her fingers keep scrolling through, viewing all sorts of photos at all sorts of angles. Newspaper headers, candid photos, posed selfies he’s managed to snag—all of them.

“Almost as good as yours,” she decided, sending him a look. “But you _definitely_ have a lot more pictures than I do.”

He could play this game. Adrien fixed his face into a sly expression. He crossed his arms. “Oh, sure. If we’re not counting the photoshopped images you have in your edits folder.”

“Hey!” She flipped back to the computer, obviously trying to find more secrets to dig out. “That’s not fair; you infiltrated my computer.”

“Um…” he said slowly, barely trying to suppress the victory in his voice. He walked closer to the desk, arm over the chair’s back rest. Adrien dropped a little to bring his head to Marinette’s level. His breath ghosted his ear. “Like you’re doing right now?”

He affected her. Marinette shivered a little and the grin at his lips grow. Indignant, Marinette tried to focus on the computer. She’s clicked back to the previous pictures folder, scrolling through the endless file he has on his computer, trying to find some other picture file that may beat all the photos she had of him. Adrien maintained his smugness. She won’t find any; he’s won this one.

But Adrien is too fixated on his rare win that he doesn’t notice Marinette diving off his chair and for a drawer near his bed. She opens it and pulls out a pillow.

“ _Ha!”_ she shrieked. “I win—you have Ladybug merchandise!” Marinette raised the pillow up like it’s an offering to the heavens. Adrien’s a bit embarrassed, but he realized something else. He raised an eyebrow.

“Is this really a game of who has more embarrassing Parisian superhero stuff?”

She faltered. Marinette doesn’t flush—not the kind Adrien’s expecting anyways. A red made way on her face and her face morphed into an expression that Adrien couldn’t even deem as “mild embarrassment”.

“No,” Marinette answered, putting the pillow down. She looked furious. He couldn’t really tell what it’s directed at. “I’m just...I kind of just want to prove that I wasn’t the only one obsessed.”

He frowned. That’s what this was about? He stepped towards her, wrapping his hand around the back of her left hand. She let him lace his fingers through hers and the pillow falls to the ground.

“I was obsessed,” he reassured her. Marinette’s eyes darted away. “I _am_ obsessed. How can I not be?” Adrien presses a kiss to her forehead.

“I always feel like my crush on Adrien was way over the top. I mean”—she rolls her eyes, a little jokingly, but Adrien can see her shaking, just slightly—“everyone knew. Even _you_ did.”

“Oh.” He coughed. “Yeah.”

Marinette looked at him. “What?”

“I...I didn’t know.”

Marinette laughs. “What?” she repeated.

“I, uh, wasn’t sure if you liked me.” She gapes at him. “ _What?”_ Adrien said this time.

“How could you _not_ be?”

“How could _you_ not know Chat Noir liked you? He visited Marinette on the balcony. For years!”

“A year and a half and no, I was _not_ counting— _see?_ ” Marinette hollered. She covered her face with her hands. “See? I know that. I always feel like you’re the one driving me crazy.”

Did she actually believe that? How could she actually say that honestly? “Marinette,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her lips. She let him, pressing back, but he could taste the insecurity. “I am so incredibly crazy for you. How can I not be? How could that even be possible?”

Marinette kissed him. Very thoroughly. He had to be crazy for her because the feeling that she poured into the kiss very matched the feelings he had for her.

“Okay,” she says, her eyes brightened. Marinette is positively glowing with happiness. “Okay.”

He pecked her lips again. “Should we get started on that history project?”

She didn’t seem very into it anymore. “Mmm…” Marinette feigned thinking. She tapped her lips, something that obviously affected him insanely. “No. I’m tired. I think I’ll take a nap.” Marinette winked and Adrien’s breath caught. She didn’t _actually_ mean—

Then, Marinette grabbed the Ladybug pillow from its fallen place on the ground and hopped onto his bed, faking light snores.

Marinette shrieked with laughter when he tackled her for the pillow.

**Author's Note:**

> come talk with me on [tumblr!!](http://www.perseuesjackson.tumblr.com)


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